For the longest time, I didn’t know how to begin this post because either way it’s written, it’s embarrassing. I think it’s best to start in the middle, at what was supposed to be the breaking point of this “relationship”—my breaking point. But the dust hasn’t exactly settled on this little misadventure. This post really is just about a single moment in time, filled with anger and unanswered questions. There is still much to be said.

After two nights of no contact from my then boyfriend, I decided to take my mind off things and hang out with a friend. I stuffed myself with so many M&Ms and Hershey’s nuggets on the couch at my friend’s apartment while trying, TRYING to focus on Zombieland and not my negligent boyfriend. After a nice night ending with him telling me that I made him happy, he hadn’t bothered to pick up the phone for two days to call me. My friend reassured me that he was probably going through something and needed some space.

Hi. Hello. If you’re wondering, there will be no posts this week. I have some pressing matters to attend to. I know it’s Tuesday and I’m just now getting around to posting something about this. I’m sorry. I…I love you? In the mean time, feel free to read some of the articles I’ve found interesting this week:

I’m going to be the old lonely lady that never leaves the house and orders everything from QVC and HSN. Especially cooking things. I love food and I love eating good food. I’m going to be the lady that has no one to cook for. I may be the lady that just eats alone, eats my feelings, and translates into massive tons of fat. Yep. I might just be that 400 pound lady they drag out the house with a bulldozer.

In all honesty, I don’t know what I want. I’m not a dater. At 22 years old, I can say that I’ve only been a relationship with one guy and that was 7 years ago when I was 15. It only lasted five months. I’ve crushed on people, but yes, I wasn’t officially involved with anyone in college. I focused too hard on my studies and myself to go looking for a relationship.

And I think the overarching theme to my life is that I’m scared of losing my sense of self when I get involved with someone. I’m not willing to compromise my goals and self respect for a man. The men of today seem to ask that you do this if you want to be with them. And the sad thing is, women give in. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why.

When I was a young girl, I played with my friend Linda on the grassy knolls in the middle of our apartment complex. Once, a boy named Marquis ran by and spit in our hair. Furious, we chased him around the complex. We never caught him and he laughed all the way home. I went home and immediately told my mom what he did to us.

“Mama! Marquis spit in my hair!”

“Don’t worry,” my mom said. “That means he likes you.”

My mother must have seen the obvious look of confusion of my face because she continued, “When a boy tries to mess with you, it means that he likes you and he wants your attention.” And she left it at that.

I reflect a lot on relationships and the topic takes up substantial space in my book on Asperger’s syndrome, which is slated for upcoming publication. For a significant amount of time, I’ve been living with the label of Asperger’s – a disorder in which social faux pas and rules are obliviously ignored without the knowledge of the one ignoring them. It’s hell and I wish my brain were wired differently, even if it didn’t mean the raw talent as a wordsmith that it has granted me in the process.

The last girl that I dated was during the summer of last year. Her name was Christina. I won’t say her last name because she doesn’t deserve the negative attention. I really suspect her of being bipolar, as the situations that I ended up in with her were so over the top and flashing from one emotion to the next that I wasn’t quite sure which “Christina” I was talking to.

I’m trying not to hate romantic comedies, but movies like “No Strings Attached” make it so difficult.

So, I wasn’t going to write about this initially but then I thought, at the very basic level, it relates to my current situation (that I will discuss much later). I think the main problem I had with “No Strings Attached” (aside from cliches and cheesiness, I was actually expecting that) was the development of plot and characterization. I suppose it was my fault for even agreeing to waste $7.50 on this, but that’s a DEAL these days and I’m in college, I like cheap. I guess I got what I paid for. I really wanted to watch “Blue Valentine” because: Ryan Gosling obviously. But I got outvoted 2 to 1. Big WOMP. I started to reason with myself that it wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, it’s Natalie Portman (Black Swan, hello). And I do recall her being funny (“We love you, Natalie!” “I wanna f*ck you too!”) Right? So, I thought this should be alright.

﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿I remember sitting on the couch with a friend watching reruns of Man vs. Food. Somehow, the conversation drifted into a discussion about how so many of our friends are pregnant and/or married. How we wanted to be mothers and wives by the time we’re in our late twenties. We realized that we needed to catch up to our peers. “Our mission this year is to find a man!” We joked.